


Twisted Destiny

by alltheleavesarebrown



Category: BBC Merlin, Merlin (TV), Merlin - Colin Morgan, Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Colin Morgan - Freeform, Drabble, Episode Related, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Magic, Series Finale, how it should have ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:29:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheleavesarebrown/pseuds/alltheleavesarebrown
Summary: Desperate to save Arthur in Calamann, Merlin realizes he cannot stay concealed as an old man. Once again in his youthful state he arrives to the confrontation of Mordred and the king.The Old Religion claims that only death can pay for life.-.-This is an author's retelling of the series finale of Merlin.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	Twisted Destiny

The ancient dragon-language rolled off his tongue, as harsh and unforgiving as an earthquake. The words filled the sky like thunder. Aithusa, looking immensely guilty, had no choice but to shudder at Merlin’s command. She gave a whine and flew away from the battle.

In the canyon below, swords were flashing. Bodies lay strewn against the dirt and dust. So this was Merlin’s destiny-- Arthur’s destiny-- come into play. Calamann: a moment Merlin feared with every fiber of his being. 

“Emrys!” Morgana cried angrily. Her voice raised above the others. Eyes that used to be filled with hope and cheer were raised to him. Merlin raised his staff and, with magic, knocked her to the ground. There were many men, both from opposing and defensive armies, looking up at him. Although disguised as an old man, Merlin felt as if they were looking through him. Nevertheless, he sent bolts of lightning to strike the Saxon men. Arthur led the last charge and disappeared from sight.

_ It’s Mordred,  _ Merlin thought.  _ He’s the one I have to get. I have to save Arthur. _

He was a faithful servant to the King of Camelot for years. From their, daresay  _ rough _ , first encounter they had grown an unbreakable bond. Merlin liked to think himself friends with Arthur. Now, it was time to save his life once more.

Merlin hustled away from the edge of the cliff, away from the prying eyes of any onlooker. A part of him knew if he stayed as an old man, he may not reach the king in time. So he returned himself to his ordinary, youthful state and bounded toward the sounds of battle-- ignoring the smell of blood, feces, and sweat.  Thanks to him, the fight was almost over. Camelot reached victory with the Saxon men retreating. But it was not without cost. Many knights of both armies proved hard to step over. Yet Merlin had only one person in mind: Arthur.

By the time Merlin found the king, he was crouched beside a dying man. Mordred advancing behind him. For a moment he worried that Arthur could not sense the oncoming opponent-- until Mordred’s sword scraped against the ground.  The king rose to meet his unknown opponent; their swords rang as metal clashed upon metal. Arthur had the upper hand. He was ready to deliver the final blow. He faltered upon seeing Mordred’s familiar face. Perhaps, in Arthur's mind, Mordred was still just a boy in need of saving. Or, perhaps Mordred's betrayal still lay fresh in the king's mind. Either way, Arthur's mistake would prove to be fatal.

_ Magic?  _ No, there was no time to do magic. Merlin froze. He couldn’t think of a spell. Mordred’s upper lip twitched and his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. Time… there was no time. This was destiny. Mordred was to kill Arthur; Arthur would die; the prophecy would come true.  _ No. _

__ The world screeched to a halt around Merlin as his eyes shifted to gold. There was Mordred, poised to strike, and Arthur, the target of the druid's blade. They moved slowly, constrained by the eternities of passing moments. Merlin bit back the feeling of nostalgia; this was the very spell he had used to save Arthur the very first time, and now it would be the last. Mordred came to a slow realization as his eyes met the warlock's.

The blade cut through skin, muscle, and vein with a horrifying squelch. The world resumed its natural pace. Arthur froze, exhaling a shocked breath. Merlin grunted and looked down at the sword impaled through his midriff. Mordred pulled his blade out quickly, his eyes wide and watching Merlin-- who could only drop to his knee in an attempt to process his agony. 

“No,” Arthur said sharply. He lunged at Mordred and stabbed him through the chest. Arthur let his sword cut deeper and jerked it closer to the sorcerer’s heart. Mordred refused to break eye contact until it was impossible. He collapsed, dead, to the ground.

Merlin tried to stand and walk closer to his friend. It felt like moving through honey, as though his spell had backfired. His knees shook from the effort. He fell again.

“Merlin! Hey-hey, Merlin!” Arthur cupped Merlin’s neck and steadied him with his other hand. On the verge of unconsciousness, Merlin thought Arthur was trying to check his pulse.  _ You clotpole… that’s not how you do it.  _ “It’s not safe here,” Arthur said. “I’m going to have to move you and send for Gaius.”

He lifted a delirious Merlin the way he would a bride and carried him away from the canyon and into the shelter of the woods.

When Merlin awoke, the moon was risen and Arthur was struggling to light a fire.

“Arthur,” Merlin mumbled.

The king snapped around to face him. “How are you feeling?”

The warlock cried out as he tried to shift his position. His hand instinctively went to his side. He flinched as his action proved worthless to subdue his pain. His fingers came away bloody.  Arthur demanded, “Lie back. Lie back.”

The two stayed in silence for a moment. Merlin grasped Arthur’s shoulder-- to which Arthur awkwardly returned the favor, in hopes of comforting his servant. Merlin was drifting away again. 

“Hey, where have you been?” the king asked.

_ Getting my magic back in order to save you… again. _

“Doesn’t matter now,” responded Merlin. He clenched his teeth together, and hissed out an exclamation to his pain. “Ah- my side!” His chest heaved to get a decent breath.

“You’re bleeding.”

“That’s alright. I thought I was dying.”

Arthur gave Merlin an incredulous look laced with panic. Merlin realized he would have to confess. To tell Arthur who he truly was. “I’m sorry,” he started. “I was trying to defy the prophecy. I came just in time…”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I defeated the Saxons.” Merlin’s chin quivered. He blinked to hold back his tears-- whether from fear or wound, he didn’t know. He clutched his jacket to hide the evidence of his shaking fingers. “The dragon, and yet I knew it was Mordred I must stop.”

The king patted Merlin’s shoulder gently and chuckled. Patiently, he told him, “The person who defeated them was the sorcerer.”

“It was me,” Merlin cried. A tear dropped past his nose.

“Don’t be ridiculous,  _ Mer _ lin.” They stared at each other for a second. Merlin was trying his best to smile but his body trembled. He could see the thoughts swirling in Arthur’s mind as he attempted to process his manservant’s words.  Couldn’t have been an easy task, Merlin realized. Arthur was used to him stumbling over his own feet and saying ridiculous things not even knights would dare utter to the king. “This is stupid. Why did you say that?”

“I’m- I’m a sorcerer. I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”

“Merlin, you are not a sorcerer,” Arthur said sternly. He gripped Merlin’s shoulder a little bit harder. Not enough to hurt him, though. “I would know.”

“Look… Here.” He sniffled and raised his hand. Albeit shaking, he cast a quiet spell. The fire roared to life. Sparks burst into the sky and came together like constellations: it was a flying dragon, a perfect mix of chaos and beauty. Their light disbursed. Ashes flew in the wind.

Arthur exhaled and stood. His hands went into his hair and then behind his head. He couldn’t look at Merlin. He couldn’t bring himself to touch him anymore.

“I should leave,” he snarled.

Merlin’s eyebrows knitted together. “Arthur.”

He tried to move once more.

“Don’t-- just-- you heard. Just…” Arthur walked away. As he went further into the forest, he knew that he was leaving Merlin to die. His most trusted friend. But could he trust him now? A  _ sorcerer. A dragonlord?  _ His servant was something his legacy swore to destroy. Leaving him was right. Or was it?

It was the afternoon of the next day when Arthur spotted Gaius wandering through the bracket.

“Gaius!” Arthur explained.

“Arthur, you’re alright!” The physician paused. He knew the consequences the Old Religion described. “Where’s Merlin?”

“He was wounded,” Arthur said, feeling a pang of guilt. He glanced down at the herbs in Gaius’s hand. “Is that all you got?”

“The hills are crawling with Saxons. I’ve got comfrey. Let me see Merlin. Quickly, we won’t be able to hide for much longer.”

Arthur quickly seized Gaius’s hand. “He’s a sorcerer.”  The look on the old physicians face was not one of surprise. His eyes slowly diverted away from the king, as if Gaius were searching for something to say. Arthur stepped back. “You knew.”

“Arthur, he is your friend.”

“I want him gone.”

Gaius assured, “There is no need to fear him.”

“We can go back to Camelot, Gaius. You said it yourself: the Saxon men will be here. I need a physician in my court, not a sorcerer.”

“He can do far more than me, far more than you can ever imagine.” Gaius’s tone was fatherly. Wise. “Arthur… he doesn’t  _ just _ have magic. There are those who say he’s the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”

Of course, Arthur could only imagine the moments he had seen Merlin checking for woodworms.  _ He couldn’t possibly be the greatest sorcerer. _

“He is the reason for your survival. You need Merlin to help you. And right now, he needs you and me. Please, take me to him.” Gaius held up his measly handful of comfrey.

There were footsteps crunching over the undergrowth. Merlin frightfully looked up but relaxed upon seeing Gaius, followed by Arthur.

“My boy…” Gaius said sadly. He knelt beside Merlin-- who may as well have been his son. He went to quick work evaluating the wound. Merlin had tried to stop the bleeding, or at least ease his pain overnight. But it had been to no avail. His mind was clouded with pain, blood loss, exhaustion, and dehydration. He was glad to see the experienced physician.

Merlin told Gaius, "I tried... Mordred was too quick. It was me or Arthur."

"I know, Merlin. Lie back down."

“How is he?” Arthur asked in an uncharacteristically small voice. He was lying when he said he wanted Merlin gone. Merlin was his friend, despite his lie. All he could do was peer over Gaius’s shoulder.

Gaius sealed his lips before speaking, “There’s a fragment of sword embedded in his chest.”

“Well, we’ll use magic to draw it out,” Merlin mumbled. He looked cautiously over at Arthur, as if the word ‘magic’ would lead to his beheading.

“No,” the physician said regretfully, “the blade that struck you is no ordinary blade. I fear it was forged in a dragon’s breath. Its… fatal power will not be easily denied.”

Merlin sighed, pensive. “Aithusa?”

Gaius nodded, then rose to his feet. He walked over to Arthur and bowed his head.  “The blade’s point is travelling inexorably towards his heart. Not even he could attempt to thwart such magic. It would take a power as ancient as the dragons themselves.”

“There must be something we can do, Gaius.”

“Only the Sidhe possess such magic. In the midst of the Lake of Avalon there is an ancient isle. That is the source of their power. You must take him there.”

Arthur glanced back to Merlin-- who looked to be sleeping. “He won’t want to go with me. Not anymore.”

“He will. I know him.”

The king nodded. “We should leave at first light, then.” He turned back to his advisor and in a moment of honesty, said, “I can’t let him die. Not after what he did for me.”

“Let him sleep,” Gaius said, looking to Merlin. “You’re right. It’s late and you cannot travel tonight.”

Arthur helped Merlin upon his horse the next morning. His servant muttered a small ‘thank you’ before shouting for Gaius. The physician arrived at Merlin’s side.

“You were right to tell him,” Gaius said.

Merlin shook his head. “If I am to die… take care of Arthur. You know he was betrayed. The girl Eira cannot be trusted.”

“I know.” Gaius gave Merlin’s hand a soft squeeze. “I’ll have your favorite meal waiting for you when you come home.”

Arthur pulled Gaius aside and whispered, “How long does he have?”

The physician looked utterly pained to say it, as if the words he were about to say aged him even more. “At best, two days.”

The king took the royal seal off his neck and pressed it into Gaius’s hands. “Let Guinevere know I am alive but give this to her should we not make it back. I can think of no one who I would rather succeed me.”

Arthur turned away.

“Sire,” Gaius called. “Bring my boy back to me. Look after him.  _ Go. _ ”

It was hardly past noon when two Saxons came riding towards them.

“I’ll deal with them,” Arthur said.

“Don’t speak,” Merlin responded. He attempted to dismount his horse, but cried out at the effort. He remained on the sadle. “Put the blanket over your armor. Keep your head down.  _ Don’t speak. _ ”

Arthur watched as Merlin looked over to the woods. He gave a subtle nod and suddenly smoke was rising-- as if there were a camp or shelter far away. They both turned to face the coming hoofbeats. “Help us!” Merlin shouted.

The Saxon men rode nearer. “Please,” Merlin continued, feigning panic, “you have to help us-- we were ambushed!”

“By who?” the biggest of the pair asked.

“These  _ two men _ .”

“What’d they look like?”

“Uhh… One was, uh, a knight. They stormed our camp!” Merlin pointed to his faux fire, though the movement caused him to wince. The Saxons looked. Arthur realized his sword was showing from under the blanket; he quickly covered it.

“You sure it was a Camelot knight?” They turned back.

“Yeah.” Merlin squared his shoulders. The Saxon men raised their eyebrows. The bigger one came closer to Arthur and tore off his blanket. His Camelot armor revealed.

The Saxon men drew their swords-- metal scraped out of the sheathe. Merlin raised his hands. A loud crack of thunder roared throughout the skies. The Saxon men flew backward, screaming. They went quiet as they thudded to the ground.

Arthur was silent for a moment. He was true when he said he didn’t want Merlin to die. But he was still furious and disheartened about Merlin’s true identity. 

“You’ve lied to me all this time.”

Merlin did not respond.

“What are you  _ doing? _ ” Arthur snarled. Merlin was hunched over a small pile of sticks and kindling. The servant’s hands flicked. The flint he was holding only sparked, but the fire did not catch. Merlin was still quiet. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you use magic?”

“Habit,” Merlin said coarsely, “I suppose.”

He looked to Arthur. Arthur nodded down toward the fire.

The flame rose quickly and silently. Merlin admitted, “It feels strange.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed. “I thought I knew you.”

_ What are you going to do? Sentence me to death?  _ Merlin thought sourly.  _ I’m already dying.  _

Instead, he said, “I’m still the same person.”

“I trusted you.”

“I’m sorry.”  _ I stepped in front of a sword for you, you simpleton. _

Arthur blinked. “I’m sorry, too.”

Merlin pressed a hand to his side and scrambled over to where Arthur was sitting. His face twisted into a grimace as he pulled Arthur’s boots off. “What are you doing now?”

“They need drying.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you… still behaving like a servant? Just... sit down. You're hurt.”

The warlock sat back, still keeping a hand over his wound. Gaius had stopped the exterior bleeding thankfully, but he could feel the broken blade cutting through his insides. There was nothing he could do in regard to the interior bleeding. No magic he could use to slow the process down. He sighed, “It's my destiny. As it has been since the day we met.”

“I tried to take your head off with a mace.”

“And I stopped you using magic.”

“You cheated!”

Merlin chuckled, “Yeah. You were going to kill me.”

Without missing a beat, Arthur muttered, “I should have.” He looked away so he wouldn’t see Merlin’s face fall.

“Glad you didn’t…” To which the king scoffed. “I do this because of who you are. Without you, Camelot’s nothing.”

“There was a time when that was true. But not now. There are many who can fill the crown.”

Merlin smiled again. “There will never be another like you, Arthur. I serve you because you are my friend. I never wanted to lose you.”

He laid down on his mat. Arthur watched him for a while-- how he was shaking, trying to get comfortable. 

Merlin stared at the sky, thinking what it would be if Arthur’s destiny had come true. It would be him having to bring Arthur to the lake. He would probably have to spoon-feed Arthur soup…  Then he thought about the past few sorcerers he had met and what they have taught him.  _ Only death can pay for life. There must be balance.  _ Arthur would have died but it was Merlin who altered destiny, who took the blade.

_ I’m going to die,  _ Merlin thought.  _ But Arthur will be king. It is also his destiny to unite the lands of Albion. He will be able to do it now. I succeeded. _

He was not afraid to die. He was never afraid for himself, only the King of Camelot. Now, he feared. Merlin wanted to be at Arthur’s side… but their time was coming to an end with every passing moment.  _ Look how far he’s come. He will have Gaius and Gwen and his knights. He can create his own destiny now. Maybe that’s not so bad. _

Merlin exhaled, long and slow, and let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The exhaustion never left him. Even after his fitful sleep. His eyelids felt as though they were weighted with stones. His chest burned, and stung, and ached… Merlin felt as though he were being torn apart from the inside out. The pain was too much. He felt the threat of the creeping unconsciousness lurking in the shadows of his vision.

“Merlin, you need to hold on.” Arthur caught him as he slipped forward from his seat. The king sat beside him, keeping him close and steady. “One more day.”

“One more day,” huffed Merlin.

Arthur dabbed a cloth at his brow and offered him the flask of water. Merlin accepted it gratefully. Before he could drink, Arthur asked, “Why did you never tell me?” 

“I wanted to, but…”

“What?”

“You would have chopped my head off.” He let Arthur help him drink.

“I’m not sure what I would have done,” Arthur confessed.

“And I didn’t want to put you in that position.”

The king frowned. “And that’s what worried you?”

Merlin thought for a moment, looking down from Arthur’s gaze. He put his next words together carefully. “Some men are born to plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others… to be great kings. Me? I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I’m proud of that. And I wouldn’t change a thing.” Their eyes met and, although they knew nothing would be the same again, it felt as if nothing had changed.

“Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

Arthur slung Merlin’s arm over his shoulder. They stood and continued on their way to Avalon. It was a long time before they stopped. This time, it was because of smoke ahead. Presumably, a campfire.

“Saxons?” Arthur asked, it was more of a warning.

Merlin allowed himself to use magic once more. The effort was draining, but all he saw was an abandoned fire. Relieved, he said, “They’re long gone.”

“How do you know?”

“I can… see the path ahead.”

Arthur griped, “So you’re not an idiot. That was another lie.”

“No,” Merlin quipped, “it’s just another part of my charm.” For a moment, Arthur felt the corners of his lips tug upward. If it weren’t for Merlin looking so pale or the fact he was a sorcerer, he may have even smiled. He admired how Merlin was trying to stay strong, for him. Even if every minute he slumped further into his saddle.

Each mile brought about more Saxon men. They seemed to be multiplying. The two had to duck into caves-- even leave their horses in order to hide. Currently, they were sheltered behind some evergreen branches. Merlin enchanted spells to cover up hoof prints with leaves and rustling bushes-- giving the Saxon men no trace of their whereabouts.

“Clearly, you’ve done this before.”

Merlin gave Arthur an expressionless look. “All these years, Merlin… you never once sought any credit.”

“It’s not why I do it.”

Arthur nodded and helped Merlin stand. While they walked back to their horses, Arthur decided that he admired Merlin-- even more so than before. These new details about him only added to the picture he had painted in his mind.

“Merlin!” Arthur turned back to find his servant slumped all the way forward. His head bobbing with the movement of his horse. He nearly fell from his horse in an effort to get to Merlin quickly. His feet thudded ungracefully across the forest floor. He pushed Merlin up.

“I- I can’t go on.”

“There’s not far to go. We need to reach the lake before dawn.”

“No, Arthur, no.” Merlin’s eyes flickered shut and he slid sideways. Arthur caught him and quickly propped him up against a fallen tree.

_ It was going to be me… It should have been me,  _ Arthur thought. He was panicking. His thoughts brought him back to when his father appointed Merlin as his manservant. Merlin had pushed him away from the flying knife; a chandelier fell onto the sorceress.  _ Magic.  _ It had to have been Merlin.  Then the spear, thrown during an ambush. Arthur had turned around to see Merlin lying on the ground. He had thought Merlin to be weak but…  _ it was magic.  _ Every convenient flurry of wind, fallen tree branch, and arrow deflected at the opportune moment… Even for the great dragon that attacked Camelot: Arthur never remembered defeating it; it was Merlin who told him he did. 

The old man, with the staff at Camlann… Merlin admitted it was him. But he had seen that man before.  _ All this time it was Merlin. _

What about the Dolma? Arthur sputtered to himself. That one was a little too ridiculous, even for Merlin. 

Each memory accelerated-- swirling around the enigma that was his manservant. The man who put himself in danger every second he was in Camelot. He served Arthur. He served Uther, whose hatred for magic exceeded Arthur’s. The flashes of the past brought him here. To Merlin-- dying in front of his eyes. Arthur grit his teeth. There was no man worth his tears, and yet… 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered. Merlin’s eyes fluttered but did not open. “Whatever happens, I don’t want you to change. I’ve always been royalty, but you were the one with the courage to tell me what to do. Whatever happens, I want you to always be you. And I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you.”

“Hey, does that mean you’re gonna give me a day off?” His lips twitched, slowly forming one of his goofy smiles.

“Two.”

“That’s generous.” Merlin suddenly took on a pale look, so pale that his lips were barely there. He slumped over. Arthur pressed his fingers to his neck, searching for something… anything. There! A pulse.  He bowed his head but did not allow himself to relax. He murmured to Merlin to get some sleep. Arthur wanted to be moving in an hour but that was not going to happen. So he stayed beside Merlin with his hand on his neck, praying that he would make it until dawn.

Merlin would cry out in his sleep at the subtlest of moments, waking up momentarily, then falling back asleep. Arthur watched the moon with an eagle’s eye. It wasn’t nearly setting fast enough. Merlin was not going to last. They needed to move.

“We need to get moving,” Arthur whispered, gently patting his servant. “Merlin! We’ve wasted enough time.”

He pulled Merlin to his feet and dragged him back to the horses. They rode until dawn. Only dismounting momentarily to view Lake Avalon, in her full glory, in front of them.

“Avalon. We’ll get there.”

The horses let out screeches suddenly. Whinnying and rearing. “Woah, woah, woah!” Arthur gasped, leaping to his feet. They galloped away.

“Hello, Arthur,” came a familiar voice. The king turned around. His heart sank seeing Morgana: her hair a mess, her clothing dark and dirty. Her eyes flashed a golden color that sent him crashing through the bushes. His sword fell from his loosened grasp.

Merlin panted. His eyes searched for where Arthur had landed. Morgana sneered, “What a joy it is to see you, Emrys. Look at you-- not so tall and mighty now.” She knelt beside him. “You may have won the battle, but you’ve lost the war. Arthur won’t die by Mordred’s hand anymore; however, he’ll die by mine. 

“Don’t worry, dear Merlin, I won’t let you die alone. I will stay and watch over you until the wolves gorge on your carcass and bathe in your blood.”

“No,” Arthur said, appearing behind her. “The time of bloodshed is over.” He drew his knife from his belt. It wasn’t Excalibur, but it would do-- do well enough to distract Morgana from Merlin.

“I’m a high priestess. No mortal blade can kill me.”

Merlin took this chance to summon his last strength. He summoned Excalibur into his own hand and stood. He said, “I blame myself for what you have become but this has to end.”

Morgana spun to face him right as Merlin struck. She looked up in disbelief and grasped Merlin, bringing both of them down to their knees. “This is no mortal blade. Like yours, it was forged in a dragon’s breath.”

He sent the blade into her heart and she gasped. Guttural chokes faded quickly after Merlin pulled the sword away. Her eyes looked sightlessly to the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance as her last breath left her body. “Goodbye, Morgana.”

Arthur looked to his half-sister in shock. Reminding himself that she was no longer Camelot’s loving ward but someone cruel and bloodthirsty. She was a sorceress who used her magic for the wrong things, unlike Merlin…  _ Merlin! _

The servant’s coat was already stained stark red but it was spreading once more. His skin took on the pallor of a corpse. He was running out of time.

“All right,” Arthur said, hauling Merlin to his feet again. “You’ve brought peace at last… Now come on.”

Together they stumbled out to a clearing. “Come on,” Arthur urged. “We have to make it to the lake!”

“Arthur…” Merlin collapsed. He was usually too light to bring down Arthur but his sudden limpness caused the king to fall to the ground with him. He held his servant in his arms and rested his head upon his chest.  _ We will make it. I’ll carry you if I have to.  _ “Not without the horses. We can’t. It’s too late.”

The king’s ears were ringing-- not processing Merlin repeating, “It’s too late.”

The king tried to press his hand over the rip in Merlin’s fabric to staunch the bleeding. “I’ll tell you when it’s too late. With all your magic, Merlin, surely you can save your own life.”

“I can’t.” Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist and relaxed against his cool armor. “The blade is forged from a dragon’s breath, you heard Gaius. I can’t.”

Arthur yelled, “I’m not going to lose you!”

“Just-- just--” Merlin gasped, pained, “Just hold me. Please. There’s so- something I want to say.”

“No. You’re not- you’re not going to say goodbye. You can’t! Everything you’ve done, I know now… For me, for Camelot… for the kingdom you’ve helped me build.”

“You’d done it without me,” said Merlin. He sighed, relieved Morgana and Mordred, the two greatest threats to Arthur's safety, were dead. “You can do it  _ without me. _ ”

“Maybe,” Arthur chuckled, despite himself. Tears stung at his eyes, still. “But there is still so much more--  _ you don’t get to say goodbye.  _ You can’t say it. You talk about  _ destiny.  _ You’ve traded your life for mine, defeating my destiny, and you fulfilled Morgana’s… I’m not a wise man but we can make one more, I think, together.”

Merlin gave him a look. One that reflected Arthur’s emotions. His eyes held sincerity, pain, loss, and despair. The more Arthur stared into them-- the deep, unfathomable blue-- the more unfocused they became.  His voice broke, “You can't say goodbye. You can’t say goodbye... not until I say something that I have never said to you before.” He couldn’t blink, nor look away. Arthur wanted to take in every detail of Merlin’s face. “Thank you.”

Merlin smiled, bringing his hand up to Arthur’s cheek.  _ I guess it didn’t kill you to say it.  _

“Thank _ you _ .” He gives a smile, a soft yet genuine smile. A warmth spreads throughout Arthur. 

Merlin’s eyes roll up in his head and the feeling is torn from Arthur. There’s a crushing feeling in his chest. Merlin’s hand falls from Arthur’s cheek; his other hand, gripping Arthur’s wrist, loosens.

“No, Merl-  _ Merlin!”  _ He screamed. For a second, Merlin’s eyes flew open. But it was only for a second. “Stay with me. Merlin! No… Merlin!” He heaved himself from underneath the deadweight of his servant. He pulled him into his arms. “We will get there, Merlin. I’ll get you to Avalon.”

Arthur carried Merlin, moving faster than he would have thought possible to the bank of the lake. “Merlin, there’s a boat… You can hold on. I know you!”

The wind around him picked up. The trees shook under each gust. From the skies, came the great dragon. Arthur set down Merlin and drew his sword, putting himself between his servant and the beast.

Kilgharrah landed and dipped his head to the king. “There is nothing you can do,” he said in the common tongue. Arthur clenched Excalibur even tighter. He clenched his jaw, now unsure whether the beast was a friend or foe.

“I’ve failed?”

The dragon took a moment to look at Merlin. “No, young Pendragon. I cannot say what was written has come to pass…”

“I can’t lose him!” Arthur shouted. “He’s my friend!”

“Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Arthur. You were destined to die by Mordred’s hand, but that did not come to pass, so someone else had to take the blow. But you are still the once and future king-- and Merlin is not your servant but a powerful warlock. He is the essence of magic itself and the last Dragonlord. Take heart, for when Albion’s need is greatest, you will be joined again.”  Kilgharrah inhaled deeply. “I can’t say it has been a privilege to know you, young Pendragon. Yet the story we have been a part of will live long in the lives of men.”

The dragon spread his large, leathery wings and took to the skies. He rose higher, until he appeared to be the size of a sparrow, and glided away from sight.

Hopelessly, Arthur looked down at Merlin, then to the island across the lake. 

_ We were so close… _

The boat was prepared. Arthur had filled the inside with branches and arranged it like a bed. He placed Merlin into it. Made sure his eyes were closed. Then, he put Excalibur over his chest and folded Merlin’s hands over it.  He was the reason Arthur had the sword but Arthur felt that he didn’t deserve it. This was a dragon-forged sword. The same type that would have killed him-- and killed Merlin. The very same blade that killed Morgana. It would go with his servant.

Arthur knelt beside the boat. Looking at Merlin, he felt his interior dams break. Sobs burst forth, uncontained, and raw from the inside. Tears spill down his cheeks. In anger, he punches at the sky and screams. He curses himself, but the shaking doesn’t stop. The loud sobs wrack through his body.

“Okay, Merlin…” He presses a hand over his mouth and nods. “Okay. You can rest now.”

He pushes the boat out into the lake and watches as the currents take his friend out of sight. The king knew at that moment that the story Kilgharrah mentioned was never about him. It was about the destiny of a great kingdom resting on the shoulders of a young man:  _ Merlin _ .


End file.
